"(Astray) Wandering from the woodland path" for Tabris and Alistair?
This prompt is literally two years and four months old lmaooo thank you for sending it!!
Rated G, 608 words | @dadrunkwriting
Set in my newest AU, Prince Alistair and his knight escort, Ser Kallian Tabris, travel together quite awkwardly, bound by circumstance and station.
They had to lose the assassin. Leaving the familiar road behind added a good week to their journey at least, but it was a necessary step to take. Kallian would not be responsible for the death of Prince Alistair; she would safely escort him to the palace at Denerim, even if it took her own life.
"Do you think we're too conspicuous?" the Prince fretted, glancing around at their little party.
It was a thought Kallian had had too. The task had always been to not draw too much attention to them, but a Theirin was a Theirin and the Regent had insisted Prince Alistair travel as properly as possible. That meant two mabari as from the Theirin family crest, a blood bay for the Prince – the colour of the mabari – and a palomino for his Knight escort – the colour of the shield.
"No, Your Highness," she replied, keeping her eyes fixed ahead at the thickening forest. Two horses and two mabari. It could have been much worse. She just hadn't expected the Antivan Crows on their tail. Besides, they needed the horses, and she didn't want to let Ciarth and Smwt go off on their own, even if they were perfectly capable of doing so.
A better knight may have sent the mabari off with one of the horses as a decoy. The thought crossed Kallian's mind, and she gritted her teeth in the knowledge that she couldn't do it.
"Alright," Prince Alistair replied, meekly. She felt bad. Perhaps she was too... stern, but she didn't quite know how not to be, not with him. She fidgeted in her seat, and Llamrei whickered beneath her, as if sensing her discomfort.
She had to be proper. She was Ser Kallian Tabris, a knight of the Order of Calenhad. Any failure, any slip-up, and she would disgrace not only her family but the Theirins as well. Speak when spoken to when it came to royalty, that's what they said. Especially as an elf.
"How are you feeling, Your Highness?" The words reluctantly tumbled past her lips regardless.
"Oh! Well... I suppose." She could hear the doubt along with the smile in his voice.
What now? She couldn't press. But he clearly wanted to speak his mind. But then, who was she to presume what the Prince did or did not want to say?
"How are you feeling?”
She almost jolted Llamrei into a canter at that.
"Oh..." she breathed, before straightening in her saddle. "Also well. Thank you, Your Highness.”
"Well," he repeated, and Kallian's eyes darted to her left, but he was trailing just a little too far behind for her to see his expression. "Well, well, well.”
Ah. He was bored. She felt a pang of shame, but reminded herself that she was his protection and escort, not his jester.
"And how about you, Red Leicester?”
He spoke quietly, but not enough to stop Kallian twisting in her seat. "Red Leicester?”
Prince Alistair stared at her, wide-eyed and guileless, a dusting of pink across his freckled cheeks.
"Oh, the... you know, my... this fellow," he smiled, gently patting the blood bay's neck.
Kallian couldn't help the upward quirk of her lips. "His name is Hengroen.”
"Oh." He deflated, his eyes drifting downwards.
Ciarth huffed a hushed bark next to her, and she whipped back around to face forwards, rectifying her westwards drift.
Told off by her own mabari; how embarrassing. Flushed, they walked quietly through the trees.
“Red Leicester may suit him better," Kallian said after a moment. "Your Highness.”
Prince Alistair hummed happily from the back, pushing Red Leicester on to trot a little closer by.
“But the loneliness never left me, I always took it with me, but I can put it down in the pleasure of your company.” for Fenders? (LOVE the lyric prompt list btw)
Ah thank you so much!!!! I, spent far longer on it than I meant to because I had too many feelings ^^
(If you’d like me to write you a dragon age fic, send me a prompt from here!)
@dadrunkwriting
Pairing: Fenders
Characters: Anders, Fenris
Tags: fluff, established relationship
Rating: Teen and Up
*
When Fenris wakes, he’s alone in bed. The first thing he does is trample on the anxiety that rises in him like a wave. Nothing is broken, and there’s no taste of magic or magebane in the air. This has happened before, and it will likely happen again. For all his easy social airs and quick laughter, Anders - much like Fenris - has yet to learn to reach for another when he needs them. So Fenris sits up, and pulls on Anders’ shirt because it’s closest and big enough to slip on easily. Then he gets out of bed, touching the hilt of his greatsword by the bedframe for one long, grounding moment before he lets it go and moves further into the darkness of the mansion.
It isn’t hard to find Anders. He always manages to find his way here - they certainly would have been intended as slave quarters, in Danarius’ original plans. (Fenris wonders if he told the Marcher architects that, or just claimed ‘storage’ and let it slide.) It’s a room too small for a magister to be seen dead in - literally, Fenris had walked the catacombs of Tevinter’s finest, and even their tombs would not allow so little space.
But there’s a fireplace, and a chair, and a window. Anders is sitting in his bedclothes on the windowsill, crooked up like a contortionist with his long limbs folded against the narrow stone. There’s a wisp above his head, casting a soft blue light onto the book in his lap, and his eyes are tracing over the ink on the pages as if in a dream. Fenris steps close enough to glance over his shoulder: another banned mage romance that Varric had shuffled their way via the Coterie. The page reads:
“- Nathaniel, I don’t think you’re a monster. I never thought you were a monster. It’s just magic. That’s as natural as starlight. It’s part of who you are.”
Fenris feels the ghost of a smile curl around his lips, and tries not to marvel at how quickly he’s acclimatised to this. Instead, he walks out of the room and comes back with a basket of logs. He doesn’t ask Anders for help lighting the fire - he doesn’t need to. He glances sparks against the kindling with a practiced flick of his knife on flint, and the fire catches. Whilst it takes, he goes back to their bedroom and returns with their blankets and his own book - a heavy tome on the political history of Antiva which barely disguises with its sombre prose the truly ribald nature of Antivan politics.
Fenris pulls in a chaise longue of sorts, and curls onto it in a nest of blankets, lying so that he’s looking in Anders’ direction. Then he starts to read.
The fire snaps and pops in the quiet, filling the room with the sweet smell of burning wood. For a long time Anders says nothing, and the silence is only broken by he or Fenris turning a page.
But then he lowers his hand from the windowsill, reaching. Fenris meets him halfway, sitting up to wind their fingers together and press a soft kiss to the inside of his forearm. He doesn’t think he imagines the curve of Anders’ lips.
Fenris is three chapters further in and his hand is going numb when Anders unfolds with too many cracking joints from the windowsill and climbs onto the chaise with Fenris. Fenris smiles at him, taking care to mark his place in his book before turning to his lover. “What Occurs in Nature not living up to your expectations, then?”
Anders shrugs, and for all that they both suspect he has half a decade on Fenris, he looks strangely young in the firelight, his expression oddly brittle. “Romantic interest was a rogue templar.” He drops the book onto the floor, as if that reflects his opinion of that particular narrative judgement. Fenris clicks his tongue sympathetically, and reaches up to run his fingers through Anders’ hair. Anders’ leans into his touch.
“What about you? Got to your first orgy yet?”
“Amorous entanglements involving three or more people.” Fenris corrects dryly, quoting from the book, and then lifts it as Anders wriggles between him and the back of the chair, curling around him in a way that has his hair tickling Fenris’ neck. “We’re at 38.”
Anders snorts, and doesn’t look at Fenris when he asks, softly. “Can I read over your shoulder?”
Fenris lifts the book, silently, and feels Anders’ attention shift in quiet intensity. They read together for hours - Anders interrupting the silence as often as he needs to, usually to make a dirty joke about whatever’s on the page, and the academic’s clear and tortured longing to have chosen the history of a more sober people. The fire burns until it gets low, and winks out in pink embers. The blankets get warm with their bodies.
Fenris doesn’t remember falling asleep, but when he wakes up his body is aching. Anders’ arms tighten around his chest, and there’s a small frown on his brow, even in sleep. Fenris leans forward and kisses it away, then pulls the blanket back up over them both.
thank you @youandthemountains for tagging me in this even though i Also feel like "writer" is too generous of a description for me 😂. "five favorite fics" well. i have only posted 2 on ao3 even though I just counted 21 wips in my google docs but here they are!
for one to handle | M/M | T | 3,345 | M!Lavellan/Solas
working title: gay solavellan isn't real it can't hurt me
This was the first fic I'd posted in over 4 years, having orphaned or deleted all of my work from 2015-2017(?). Letting people read my writing again was terrifying but I got so much positive feedback (especially from @queerspacepunk) that it helped me get my confidence back as a writer. I had a great time working with Ty on it as well and I rlly do owe them my life for their help with the dialogue and their ability to give critical feedback in a way that wasn't discouraging.
Kiernan and Solas are so very dear to me and it was so exciting to have a completed fic with them that I could share with others. Some good old fashioned h/c and mutual pining as the set up for a fic that's mostly centered on how people talk about and cope with mental health and trauma in Thedas.
with april an ocean away | M/M | G | 1,828 | Adaar/The Iron Bull (/Dorian Pavus)
working title: ehsaan feeds his chickens
Writing about Ehsaan's specific struggles with mental illness has been harder for me than writing about Kiernan's because they're much different than mine, but I try to do a lot of research and the assistance I've gotten from people with OCD has been absolutely invaluable.
I rlly love this fic. It's much lighter in tone than for one to handle but thematically... at least kind of similar? I love Ehsaan, I love writing his pov because he is just. so tender hearted. and I love that when I write things with him, I'm able to indulge in a lot of nostalgia for the place I grew up. I am also learning that I just. love writing about people interacting with their pets.
ain't you handsome when you're high | M/M | E | ≈6,500 | Adaar/The Iron Bull (/Dorian Pavus)
working title: Let's Talk About Mental Health Part 3
This isn't ready to be posted but it is mostly finished and I'm including it because I'm Excited about it. More h/c, more chicken feeding, and more animals with silly names, but this time there's smut at the end.
Someday I will actually publish a fic where Dorian is present but for now you will just have to settle with Mr The Iron Bull talking about him while he gives Ehsaan a handy ❤️
alright i'm tagging @queenaeducan @merrybandofmurderers
@candidateofloyalty @madelinestarr
@potatowitch @queerspacepunk @queerthedas mwah
Kissing a scar that they got from something traumatic for f!Hawke and Merrill?
Thank you for the lovely prompt! This definitely got away from me, but I think I like it anyway.
@dadrunkwriting
Meredith gave Marinda a last long look before nodding. "I trust we understand each other, Champion." She turned away, calling out to gather the mages and Templars she'd brought and headed back to the Gallows.
Carver glanced back at her and she gave him a sheepish shrug. He rolled his eyes and fell in line with the rest of his Order.
She took a moment to breathe in the cool night air of Hightown, but the normal comforting scent of night-blooming flowers was covered by blood and smoke.
Andraste give me strength.
Cheering erupted as Marinda gingerly walked back into the main hall of the Viscount's keep. Nobles rushed to her side to express their gratitude, touching her, crowding her, blocking her view as she tried to find her lovers in the crowd.
She forced a smile to her face and nodded at whatever Lady de Cerrac said. "If that's the best the Qunari have it's a wonder they're still causing trouble in the north," she replied, with no idea whether it was relevant to the topic. It probably was. If not to de Cerrac then to someone talking at her. The Arishok's body still lay on the ground where he'd fallen, and even the aristocracy of Hightown didn't have that short of an attention span.
Tittering laughter followed her words so it must have been the right thing to say, except it quickly became the wrong thing to say as a strong hand gave her an approving slap on the back. It took every ounce of willpower she had to grin through the fire that lanced through her abdomen for it. The owner of the offending hand grinned back at her underneath a disheveled mustache. "Too right, Champion, too right you are!"
Maker, she had to get out of here. She couldn't pass out in front of everyone, not after the Knight-Commander had given her that title.
She could have cried with relief when Aveline pushed her way through the throng, Merrill trailing close behind and Varric's voice ringing out, "Alright everyone, I know she's impressive but I do believe our Champion has earned her beauty sleep."
Despite the murmurs of disappointment, the crowd parted for the Guard Captain as she led Marinda out into the night. Merrill came to her side, and Marinda clutched at her hand for support.
"Where's Bela?" she asked softly, still forcing herself to walk with an event gait while within sight of the dispersing nobility.
"She skulked away in the commotion," Aveline said, voice hard with disapproval.
Merrill tucked herself closer, pulling Marinda's hand to drape her arm over her shoulder, and Marinda leaned into it gratefully. Her warm body shared much-needed heat after Marinda's recent blood loss."I think the crowd made her nervous. She'll be back. She always comes back."
Aveline shot her a skeptical look, but upon looking over Marinda's increasingly failing attempts to hide her pain, kept her thoughts to herself.
"What did the Knight-Commander want, Chuckles?" Varric asked as they walked through an empty side-street on the way back to her home.
"Oh, you know, the normal things." Marinda attempted a half shrug and choked back a whimper for how it made agony shoot down her side. "The duties of a Champion, my responsibility to the city, she'll throw me in the Gallows if I don't toe the line. All the standard formalities."
Merrill's eyes widened as she turned to her, and Marinda stumbled. "She wouldn't. You saved the city! You can't lock someone up after they saved the city!"
In the privacy of the alley she allowed herself a small groan from the sudden change in angle. Merrill bit her lip apologetically and returned her position at Marinda's side. "She didn't say those exact words, but it was heavily implied."
Aveline frowned. "It may have been bravado, Hawke. She named you Champion herself. Hauling you in now would be a tough sell."
"Red's right," Varric agreed, then hummed thoughtfully. "Still, it wouldn't hurt to ingratiate yourself with the hoity-toity in the coming months." Marinda groaned at the thought and Varric shrugged. "I'm just saying. You get into some weird shit with some weird people. Hightown having your back would be a good position to be in."
"I just saved all their lives! Isn't that enough?" Marinda whined, because if she was whining in annoyance then she wasn't whining in pain.
"With these people? Start going to the dinner parties, Chuckles. Trust me on this."
They reached the front door of her estate and she slumped in defeat. Merrill unlocked it for her and helped her through the threshold. She was immediately greeted by a cold mabari nose against her palm..
"Hey, Cal. It's fine. I'm fine." She gave him a reassuring scratch behind the ear.
Cal whined his disagreement and licked blood from her hand.
"Meserre!" Bodhan peeked his head out from the basement. "You're alright! Is the trouble over?"
"Yes, Bodhan. Everything's fine." Her gut was screaming at her to lie down and she was cold and lightheaded from blood loss, but she was breathing and the house was still standing. That counted as fine, right? "Do we have any elfroot?"
His eyes darted over her bloody and battered form. "I believe so, meserre. Is there anything else you need? Food? A hot bath?"
A hot bath sounded lovely, but she was afraid she would black out and drown in it. Not a very Championly way to die. "Maybe some broth? And water?" She knew she desperately needed fluids.
"Of course, meserre. Orana's down the stairs keeping the boy calm. I'll have her whip something up for you right and proper."
"Thank you."
Merrill scurried off after him, saying she was going to get some bandages, and Marinda was suddenly faced with the prospect of getting to her room.
All she wanted to do was pass out in her bed, but the stairs down from the Viscount's Keep had been bad enough. Stairs going up? She stared at the climb in despair.
Aveline must have seen her face. She held out her hand and, when Marinda moved to take it, gently scooped her up into her arms. Marinda hissed as her middle was jostled, and Maker, if she had the blood for it she would be blushing in humiliation at finding herself in a bridal carry.
"Aveline-" she tried to protest, and Aveline cut her off with a stern glare.
"No, Hawke. Hush. I've got you."
Varric's amused face quickly fell when she didn't put up any more fight. "I'm going to see if I can find Blondie for you."
Marinda shook her head. "He's probably healing people the Qunari hurt. Don't pull him away from that, I'll be fine."
He gave her a dubious look. "All the same. I'll let him know you're hurt and ask him to check on you when he gets a chance."
She was too tired to keep arguing and let herself slump into Aveline's hold.
Aveline carefully carried her upstairs and carefully deposited her on her bed. Cal immediately hopped up to her side, snuffling his concern at her neck.
"No, buddy," she murmured. He whined, but she knew he would get in the way of getting her armor off. "Foot of the bed," she offered in compromise, and he whined again but obeyed.
Merrill came through the door, balancing bandages, rags, a bowl, a cup, and a pitcher in her arms. She must have had Bodahn pile it onto her; there was no way she could have stacked it herself. "I've got everything. Well, not everything, Orana's working on the broth, but everything else. There's elfroot under here somewhere, if I can… oh…" She seemed to realize her predicament. Her arms were so full she had no way to put anything down without dropping it all, and the sloshing from the pitcher told Marinda it was already full.
Aveline came to her rescue, setting the pitcher on the nightstand and helping her unload the rest onto the bed.
"Thank you Aveline! I didn't think that through. I should have let Bodhan help me but poor Sandal was so scared I couldn't bear to pull him away with Orana needing to cook," she rambled anxiously.
"It's fine, Merrill." Aveline gave Marinda a long look. "You'll really be alright? You're not trying to joke away internal bleeding?"
Marinda huffed a soft laugh she immediately regretted. "Everything hurts, but I'm not going to die. I may not have my own ride-along passenger like Anders, but I'm still a healer. I'm not losing any blood. Just need time to make some more."
"I'm trusting you on this, Hawke. You'd better be alive tomorrow," was the stern reply.
Marinda gave a weak smile. "Champion's honor." She gave a weak salute. Did Champions salute? She didn't know. She should have asked Meredith for a handbook. "Go. I know you need to check on your men and get the city to stop being on fire." Marinda watched Aveline's face meander between exasperation and amusement, before finally making the unexpected journey to sincere.
"Thank you. You saved a lot of lives tonight. Even if Hightown forgets that in a month, I won't." Aveline gave her hand a squeeze and looked to Merrill. "Take care of her."
"I will," she promised.
Aveline gave them both a nod and left, pulling the door closed behind her.
Merrill hovered at her side. "Ma vhenan, what do you need?"
"Water. Please."
Merrill helped her drink, then gave her some elfroot to help with the pain. Marinda chewed on it, ignoring the bitter taste as Merrill carefully helped her out of her ruined armor. Her lover was gentle, but everything hurt and Merrill apologized for every wince and gasp.
"Creators…" Merrill stared at the fresh scar on her stomach.
"Fuck," Marinda agreed, looking down at herself.
She'd known it was bad. The Arishok had run her completely through and pinned her to the wall of the Keep. But even with dried blood obscuring it, Marinda felt light-headed to see just how much of her torso had been rent apart.
Merrill took an unsteady breath and dipped a clean rag into the bowl of water, gently washing the blood away to reveal the full extent of the scar. Her hand shook as she wet the rag again, moving to clean a smaller wound at Marinda's shoulder.
Marinda tore her gaze from the scar and looked at Merrill's face to find her eyes welling with tears. Marinda gently caught her wrist and pulled the cloth away, setting it aside and entwining their fingers with her other hand.
"I'm ok, Merrill. I'll be ok."
Merrill tightened her grip like her hand was a lifeline. "You almost died."
The Arishok whirled on her, and she ducked away from his axe and stumbled against the wall.
She should have been watching the sword.
"I'm alive. I'm here."
"You almost died. You were on the ground and you weren't moving and there was so much blood… Creators, there was so much blood."
Agony liked fire burned in her gut, clear through her back. She heard metal scrape against stone as she looked down at the weapon piercing her torso.
"I'm here."
"You were already so hurt and then-"
Her vision blurred as she looked up at his snear.
"Your role is realized."
"Shhhh."
"You shouldn't have done it. I didn't teach you just to watch it kill you. You almost died-"
This was how she was going to die. She stared into his eyes and distantly heard someone scream her name. She turned toward the sound and saw Bela, restrained by two Qunari, frantically trying to break free.
Bela….
"I couldn't let him take her."
She was dying, but she wasn't dead yet. And she wouldn't let him have her.
"I know. I know, ma vhenan. But I thought I lost you. I thought I killed you."
With a cry of rage and pain, she ripped the power of her own lifeblood from her wound, and boiled his blood in his veins.
"You saved me."
"Merrill no, there's too many people-"
Marinda turned Merrill's hands over and pushed back her sleeves, and traced the fresh scars from where she had used her own blood to keep Marinda's in her body.
"I can only slow the bleeding, I can't close the wound. Heal yourself, vhenan."
"That was so dangerous, love. All of the nobility could have seen."
"Merrill…"
Merrill laughed through her sobs. "You started it. You lost so much blood they would have thought it was yours."
"I can't lose you. Heal yourself or I'll bleed myself dry, I won't watch you die-"
Marinda kissed her left wrist, then her right, feeling each scar beneath her lips that had saved her life.
"I can't."
"You can."
She kissed them again, and a third time for good measure, and it wasn't until she tasted saltwater that she realized she was crying.
Merrill's gaze was resolute. Marinda had no mana left, and she couldn't use her own blood to stop the bleeding. Merrill was offering her own.
Her throat was closing up, but she made herself speak. "I can't lose you either, love. You're my heart too. You and Bela."
As Varric and Bela distracted the crowd and Aveline used her own body to shield them from sight, Marinda tentatively reached for the pull of Merrill's heart. It wasn't Marinda's blood and she couldn't call on Joy this way, but she was still a healer. Ignoring the pains that weren't threatening her life, she mended back arteries and organs and flesh. She was used to the warmth of Joy, or the soothing cool of creationism, or even the steady burn of Justice, but this felt raw. Primal.
Merrill took a hand back to cup Marinda's cheek. "We're quite the pair, aren't we?"
With careful attention to Merrill's pulse, she healed as much and as quickly as she dared, increasingly aware she was twice a maleficar in the Viscount's throne room. She didn't think she'd have the strength to run.
Marinda smiled and pulled her close. "Absolute disasters."
Confident that if she died tonight it wouldn't be from this wound, she made a last small pull on Merrill and sealed the bleeding at her wrists.
They both cried, delayed terror finally safe to be expressed, and then they kept crying, in relief and disbelief that they had survived and were free.
When they finally calmed, Marinda kissed her, tasting salt and lyrium and blood.
"I love you, Merrill."
"I love you too."
Merrill finished cleaning her and carefully wrapped the cuts and scrapes that hadn't been healed. Orana came by with the broth, and Merrill helped her drink it. She gave her more elfroot to chew as she changed out of her own bloodied clothes, and poured her some more water to wash away the taste.
She helped Marinda lie down and kissed her brow. "Sleep, vhenan. I'm sure Anders will be by tomorrow, and you'll want to be rested for that. If Varric told him what happened we're probably in for a scolding."
Marinda chuckled and closed her eyes. Merrill put out the lights and snuggled into her shoulder, and Cal crawled along the bed to curl up at her other side.
She was alive. Kirkwall was still standing. She was its Champion, whatever that meant. Merrill was with her, and though she didn't know where Isabela had gone, she knew she was free.
for the established OTP asks - 25 for merribela and 18 for fenders?
Thank you for the asks! These are so perfect for these two pairings!
25. If they live together, who decorates their living space? Has one of them taken it over?
They do sort of live together (when Isabela isn't off doing pirate things), but it's still pretty much Merrill's apartment, decorated as much like an aravel as she can manage. Isabela doesn't mind. It feels like a perfect little nest to her, one she is all too happy to return to. She doesn't really have any strong opinions about interior decorating, other than some inappropriate comments about the color of the rugs not matching the drapes, which Merrill at first misinterprets as Isabela wishing to change them out for new ones...
18. What are the little things they do each day to show the other they care? – either consciously or subconsciously
Omg...they are both so intense and dramatic, it's like...do they even know how to do 'little things'?! They are both trying, though. Anders sends him little messages (they are slowly getting it together in my retro-modern futurish Dark Sprawl AU) and stuff when he's at work, like "Hey..." and "I would drown us in blood to keep you safe." And Fenris is trying to learn how to use cute emojis so he can respond appropriately (like 🤿). Sometimes he brings Anders dinner if he's working a later shift (sometimes he gets too stoned to cook anything and just brings him random snack food from Merrill's cupboards and then eats an entire sleeve of girl scout cookies and apologizes about being a terrible boyfriend...that's still a few chapters away in Linked, though). I love them so much.
Tagged by @noire-pandora @ma-serannas-vhenan @potatowitch @musetta3 @from-the-northernlights @rosenrotxiii @nerdanel01 thank you all for a tag! ❤
Name/Nickname: Marina/Marian/Rina/Rin
Gender: oh it's- huh? It was in here somewhere! Oh well probably lost it...
Sexual Orientation: panromantic demisexual
Starsign: cancer sun, leo moon, aries rising
Height: 170cm (5'5 (I think?))
Time: 22:25 (10:25 pm)
Birthday: July 4th
Favorite Band: Melnitsa
Favorite Solo Artist: Hozier
Song Stuck In My Head: Runaway by Aurora
Last Movie: Pride and Prejudice (2005)
Last Show: Black Mirror
When Did I Create This Blog: June 2020
What Do I Post: mostly Dragon Age stuff, especially Solas simping, but honestly whatever I like
Last Thing Googled: how to learn your tumblr blog's age xD
Do I Get Asks: yes, and I'm sorry to everyone, I always love receiving your messages! It's just really hard for me to answer for some reason
Why I Chose My URL: it's an abbreviation
Following: 291
Followers: 344 (i love you all 💗)
Average Amount of Sleep: uhhhhh 5-10?
Lucky Number: 3/4
Instruments: some ukulele... does kazoo count?
What Am I Wearing: pjs
Dream Job: seaside witch
Dream Trip: Switzerland, it seems really beautiful
Favorite Food: currently it's shawarma
Nationality: Ukrainian 🇺🇦
Favorite Song: Like Real People Do by Hozier
Last Book Read: Tevinter Nights
Top Three Fictional Universes I’d Like To Live In: Thedas (probably not the wisest choice), Tamriel (TES) and idk somewhere where I can become a cool vampire or smth
For Hesmeline: 1. What’s their alignment? and for Gigi: 3. What’s their style like? Clothes, hair, makeup?
thank you <3
1. What’s their alignment?
oooooh I’ve never been really familiar with this so sorry if I say something stupid lol but I feel like Hesmeline’s inner turmoil is based on the fact that she’s ... randomly navigating in the chaotic faction ? In my heart, she’s a chaotic emo bimbo. Does it make sense. Maybe she’s closer to chaotic neutral !
3. What’s their style like? Clothes, hair, makeup?
Gigi likes simple clothing, something easy to move in and that lets her blend in the crowd. Back in the alienage she would just wear some patched big pants , probably hands me down from her father, and a simple blouse.
But that was before meeting miss leliana who has made her personnal crusade to dress Gigi as the cute leetle baby doll she is ( she’s more malleable than morrigan, you see ). Often ends up wearing frilly tops and long skirts that she suffers to please Leliana ( and it feels nice to be pampered, a little bit ).
After the game events, she goes back to her good ole pants, comfortable boots, but keeps the little frilly blouses.
She doesn’t often wear make-up, but for her 17th birthday, Sorris and Shianni offered her some sort of red lip tincture that she used for special occasions.
As for her hair, thick and curly, she prefers to keep them short, out of reach and out of her face - so, in a bun ! She doesn’t let a lot of people touch them, and keeping them detached tells a lot about wether she feels safe or not.
I'm really curious about "fanfic - fenris hungry" 👀 why he hungry. what he hungry for. is someone gonna get this man a sandwich
Heh, this was a bit of self-indulgent angst, sort of. And about Fenris struggling with adjusting to life as an independent person without the benefits of education. He is trying to survive off of food he can scrounge from Hightown dumpsters and bandit loot, after getting run out of the market for being an elf, and because the vendors didn’t think he intended to purchase anything based on his appearance. He probably was standing around staring broodily too, since he had no idea how much money the vendors wanted, and everyone around him seemed to know without asking. I feel like that would have been quite overwhelming.
He doesn’t really know how to cook, and can’t read or write, and is trying to keep up appearances without going to his companions for help. Anders finds out after following Fenris home from an outing where it was clear Fenris was having trouble, but none of his spells had any effect in helping him. I do like it, but I don’t think that it’s very popular to show Fenris having such a hard time with it. I just really like the struggle of feeling like you are missing so much knowledge that everyone else seems to effortlessly have obtained, and Fenris missed really his whole growing up experience. I feel like he’d have such a hard time being an adult and suddenly an autonomous individual when he doesn’t know how. I have so many feelings about this ;_; someone PLEASE get this man a sandwich
